


Nightmare

by bittenfeld



Category: Power Rangers Dino Thunder
Genre: Anxiety, Bondage, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, M/M, Male Slash, Nightmares, Rape, Sexual Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-04
Updated: 2017-10-04
Packaged: 2019-01-08 21:21:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12262323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bittenfeld/pseuds/bittenfeld
Summary: The grotesqueries obscenely torturing Tommy night after night are tearing at his mind.  But they’re just dreams… and of course dreams aren’t real….





	Nightmare

Tommy is in his classroom.  The clock on the far wall reads 8:49.  He is seated on a hard wooden chair at the right side of his desk, in front of his students.  His ankles are tied to the chair legs with curtain draw-cord, his wrists bound behind the back of the chair.

He is naked.

Anton appears and proceeds to commit sensual acts upon him, obscene acts, humiliating acts, while the students stare in rapt horror.

The door opens, and Principal Randall enters.  She smiles at the obscenity taking place, comments her approval.  Then strolling behind the chair, she slides a caressing hand along Tommy’s face, under his chin, then suddenly jams his head back, pressing it tightly against herself, holding it immobile, all the while murmuring delighted cruelties.

And Tommy can only glower silently, furiously, as Anton takes him in the worst act yet, even as Tommy’s own body betrays him and unwilled orgasm overtakes him….

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

He jerks upright in bed, panting for breath, dripping sweat and cum.  The nightmare clings to him like his soaked pajamas.

Beside him in the bed, Anton snores gently.  Tommy looks over at his lover sleeping peacefully.

Unable to go back to sleep, Tommy gets up, strips off the soiled clothing, then takes the throw from the foot of the bed, goes to the den, and lies down in the recliner.  Only then can he sleep the rest of the night.

Mercifully his sleep is dreamless.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“I wondered where you went,” Anton greets pleasantly over breakfast.  “I missed you.  Rolled over in bed, and you weren’t there.”

“Upset stomach,” Tommy gives his excuse.  “I didn’t want to lie flat.  It helped to sleep in the recliner.”

“Well, that’s good,” Anton acknowledges.  “You want to take anything for it?”

“I already did.”

“Mm.”

Trent carries his cereal bowl over to the table to join the two adults.  “Must have been those tacos last night.”

“Yeah,” Tommy agrees.  “Must have been.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

He walks into class at 7:56 AM.  Most of the students are already in their seats.  A tiny superstitious wisp in the back of his mind half-wonders if they will be staring at him in surprise and horror, but there are no strange looks from anyone, as the kids settle down to start class.

“Hey, Dr. O,” Ethan greets from his seat.

“Hey,” Tommy responds, lifting his briefcase onto his desk.  Everything looks normal, no chairs or any other furniture out of place.

He faces the class.  “All right, everyone, turn to page 98 in your textbooks.  Now, how many of you still need to complete experiment # 6 from yesterday?”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

He strolls around the classroom, glancing over each table’s progress, as the kids work together over today’s experiment, chatting among themselves, some standing, some sitting.

To reach a piece of equipment, Conner stands up, pushing his chair out of the way, inadvertently blocking Tommy.  A sudden anxiety clenches Tommy’s chest – the chair is in the same position as the one in his dream.

“Conner!” he alerts, a little too sharply.

“Oops, sorry,” Conner apologizes and pulls the chair back.

Almost of its own accord, Tommy’s gaze shifts up to the clock.

The hands read 8:49.

Ghost fingers crawl up his spine.  He half-expects Anton – or at least Principal Randall – to walk in.

But of course nobody does.

And the rest of the day progresses normally, uneventfully.  Even Principal Randall ignores him today, so caught up in her own daily rushed schedule that she doesn’t even take the time to toss a snide comment or sneering glance his way.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Luckily the dream doesn’t return – Trent was probably right – it probably was no more than the tacos.  Still he doesn’t sleep well, night after night.  He doesn’t remember the particulars of any dreams –  just vague wisps of nameless threat and pain – but he keeps waking up, adrenalin pulsing.  No doubt  a combination of stress at school, not to mention all the frustration of Ranger business, trying day after day to out-think and out-strategize Mesogog, an enemy who seems to always be one step ahead – or two – or five.

He’s getting way too old for this.  Probably time to hang up his morpher, and hand over the responsibility to somebody else.

Except there is nobody else.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

A few days later, the four kids are strolling down the corridor with him, chatting about weekend plans – Tommy’s only plans are to sleep 48 hours straight – as they walk into class.  And once again Tommy’s breath catches.

Trent’s chair is out of place, pushed to the right side of Tommy’s desk.

“Trent, move your chair!” he snaps.

“Uh, yeah, sure.”  The teenager moves it back to their table, although a quick glance of concern passes among him and Conner and Ethan and Kira.  “The cleaning crew must have left it there.”

Tommy starts to put his briefcase on his desk – when another sight stiffens him:  one of the room’s window curtains lies in a carelessly folded pile on his desk – the broken curtain cord coiled loosely on top.  “And what’s that doing there?” he barks.

“Wow,” Kira notes.  “Janitor must’ve been in a hurry last night.”

Ethan grins.  “Yeah – probably had a hot date waiting.”

Abruptly Tommy pushes the damaged curtain at Ethan.  “Take this to the custodian’s office right now – and tell them to replace it.”

Ethan frowns at the crumpled package thrust into his hands.  “Right now?”  His questioning gaze moves up to his teacher’s face.  “Are you okay, Dr. O?”

“Go!”

And later that day, at lunch break, even Principal Randall finally takes note, as he enters the teacher’s lounge, her tone half-concern, half-reproach.  “Dr. Oliver, you haven’t been looking well.  Are you ill?  If you are, you know you shouldn’t be spreading germs to your students.”

“No,” he admits, “just tired.  I haven’t been sleeping well this past week.”

She peers up at him, black eyes bright with an almost eager interest.  “mm – bad dreams?”

Sharply he looks at her, trying to discern if her expression replays the one in his dream – although it’s the same snippy look she always assumes, so who could tell anyway?

At any rate, none of this – the chair, the broken curtain cord, Randall’s expression – could possibly mean anything anyway, or even be someone’s idea of a practical joke, because he hasn’t told anyone about the dream.  He’s letting it get to him, and he knows it.

“Yeah, I guess,” he admits brusquely.  “Stress.”

“Oh, I _do_ understand,” she sympathizes in that condescending tone.  Her gaze dances over him.  “Anything you should be discussing with me?”

That’s the last thing he wants to do.  “No, I’m fine.  Just a lot on my mind, I suppose.”

“Of course,” she agrees, a thin smile appearing on her face.  “We’re all impossibly busy this time of year.”  An over-indulgent empathy creases her brow.  “Well, if you do feel the need to talk about – anything – you know my door is always open.  Be assured, any concern of any faculty or staff member is my concern too.  I’m here for you.”

He fakes a smile.  “Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

That night when Anton and he have sex, Anton is working at his usual intense level, even as Tommy is less than enthusiastic and doesn’t respond in kind.  But Anton keeps it up, until at one point they’re face-to-face, Anton on top, pinning Tommy’s wrists together over his head on the pillow with one hand, and smothering his face with hard hot wet kisses, pelvis dry-humping against Tommy’s belly in eager foreplay.

And suddenly Tommy has had enough.  “Stop,” he orders.

At first Anton ignores him, continuing the intense fondling.

But Tommy is through.  “Get off,” he demands, wrestling against Anton’s grip and weight.  He’ll throw him off if he has to.

But Anton finally acquiescently pulls back.  “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Tommy retorts.  “I’m just not in the mood anymore.”  And rolling over, his back to Anton, he pulls the blanket over his shoulders.

“Are you angry with me?” Anton questions, propped on one elbow, gazing at the back of Tommy’s head.  “You’d tell me if there was something wrong between us, wouldn’t you?”

“Sure.  No, I’m just really tired.  I just want to go to sleep.”

“All right.”  With a sigh, Anton lies back on the pillow, hands under his head, and stares at the ceiling, left achingly hard.  He could relieve himself, but he won’t.

Tommy lies there silently, willing himself to go to sleep.  As exhausted as he is, sleep still eludes him for a long time, until finally he drifts off fitfully.

And the dream returns in exact agonizing humiliating detail.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Again he jerks awake sweating, heart racing.  It’s not doing any good to remain at Anton’s house, so he dresses and returns to his own home.

There he goes to his work-out room, and runs through his kata.  If anything can relax him, that should.  Like meditation, he focuses and goes through it over and over like a dance, levelling and calming his mind, until he feels he can sleep again.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

He’s awakened by an insistent knock at the front door and the sun streaming in his bedroom window.  The clock reads 10:42.  He knows who’s at the door, and knows he owes an apology.

Anton offers thermos in hand.  “It’s your favorite – Jamaica blend.”  Helping himself to the kitchen, he pours two cups, offers one, sugared black, to Tommy.

“Now, tell me what’s wrong.  What did I do?”

“Nothing.”  Tommy just sighs surrender.  “It’s not you – it’s me.”

“Well, that’s an ominous pronouncement,” Anton responds benignly, moving a few steps away to casually gaze over a bookshelf .  “It usually means someone wants to end a relationship.”  Seriously he turns to watch his lover.  “Is that what you want?”

Tommy shakes his head.  “No.”

“Then what?”

A humorless smile.  “Bad dreams.”  In the light of day, it sounds ridiculous.

“They must be.  Well, I’m no psychoanalyst, but do you want to tell me about them?”

“Not really.”

“Well, if you’d like to see my doctor, I’m sure he can give you something to help you sleep.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

After school Tommy is going to his jeep in the parking lot.  The kids are a little ways behind going to their own vehicles.  Principal Randall comes up to Tommy and says she needs him to come to her office right now.  And when he reluctantly does, she locks the door and pulls the blinds, assuring, “now, you can tell me _anything_ you’d like… no one will disturb us.”

So he’s already getting anxious and worried – and then she suggests, “You know you really should relax… loosen your tie…” at which point he feels himself panicking.  She places her hands on his shoulders, then starts actually pulling his tie off.

“What are you doing?” he insists, as she drops the tie on the floor, then reaches up to unbutton his shirt.  This has to be a dream, she wouldn’t do this in real life.  And when he wants to push her hands away, he finds that he can’t.  All right – it’s definitely a dream – and dreams can’t really hurt you.

“Dr. Oliver,” she coos in her condescending syrupy manner, slipping her hands up his chest, beneath the material of his shirt, then pushing the garment off his shoulders to join the tie on the floor.  For a dream, her touch feels awfully solid and real.  “Please tell me what’s wrong – I told you I’m here for you.”

“No thanks, I’m fine,” he assures shortly and tries to leave.  But he can’t will himself to move, and instead, suddenly finds himself pushed roughly across her desk.  “Principal Randall!” he demands, as she aggressively undoes his belt then unzips his slacks.  “what the hell are you doing?  Stop it!  What’s gotten into you?”

“Oh, I’m fine, Tommy – you don’t mind if we drop the formality and I call you ‘Tommy’, do you?” she purrs, as she pushes his pants and undershorts down to his knees and begins to fondle him.  “You just really need to relax, and I’m here to help.”

What she’s doing is starting to arouse him even as it angers him.  “Dammit, stop!” he demands.  But she has no intention of stopping.  He wonders if she is going to get undressed then force him to have sex with her.  But she remains dressed, and the heavy-handed caresses suddenly turn into nasty obscenities that he can’t get away from.

Only when she’s finished does she finally let up.  “There,” she pronounces.  “You should feel much more relaxed now.  Do come back if you feel you need it again.  I certainly want to help all I can...”

And finally the invisible bonds loosen, and Tommy grabs up his clothes and re-dresses with shaking hands, then bolts out the door and hastens to the parking lot.

– and abruptly finds himself sitting in his jeep once again.  Of course it was a dream – and yet it seemed all too clear, far too real, the sensation of the hard cold surface of the desk against his body, his cock squeezed painfully against the edge of the desk… as her abuse jammed him over and over into the furniture.

“Hey, Dr. O,” Kira calls, breaking his concentration.

The kids are passing by on the way to their vehicles, just as they were before.  Just another proof it couldn’t have actually happened – in the amount of time it seemed to take, they would have been long gone by now.  And yet, he has to ask… feels compelled to ask…

“Hey guys, come here.”

Compliantly they come over.

He frowns across the parking lot.  “Umm, did you guys see if Principal Randall came by a little while ago?”

They frown, a little puzzled, “umm, no…”

But then Ethan happens to look back, and catches sight of the woman approaching, and murmurs sotto voce, “umm, don’t look now, but the witch is coming right now…”

“mm, ‘bye,” the kids start to beat a retreat.

“No, wait,” Tommy interrupts sharply.  “Stay here.”

“Dr. Oliver,” Principal Randall announces.  “I’m glad I caught you before you left. You haven’t turned in your form 314 yet.  Could you please bring it to my office?”

He feels the tension building in his chest for real this time.  “Umm, sorry, Principal Randall,” he apologizes quickly, “I, uh, don’t have it with me right now.  It’s at home.”

She smiles condescendingly and quips.  “Don’t tell me – the dog ate it.”

A confused frown furrows his brow, her joke sliding right past him.  “Umm, no… But I, uh, I’m taking the kids home right now for a tutoring session.  I can, uh, email the form to you this evening… then bring it by the staff meeting tomorrow.”

“Oh, that’s fine,” she assures, then pins the kids with the sweet nasty stare.  “Extra tutoring – well, that’s good – and we all know your grades could certainly use it, don’t we?”

“Uh, yeah,” Ethan agrees, trying to lay into whatever their teacher is trying to do.  “We, um, sure do, Principal Randall.”

“yeah,” Conner agrees quickly.

“C’mon, kids,” Tommy urges hurriedly, “Let’s go.”

Randall starts to leave, then turns back for a final word.  “You know, Dr. Oliver, you do seem to be quite uptight these days.  Are you sure you’re all right?  Maybe you should see the staff psychologist…” – the demeaning sneering smile focussed on him now – “… see what’s inside that head of yours, hmm?”

“Umm, I, uh, don’t think that’s necessary…Principal Randall…”

“Well, I think you really should consider it, Dr. Oliver.  You know, you haven’t been yourself recently.  Loosen your tie a little.” – and an icicle stabs through Tommy’s chest, and he twitches sharply.  If she notices, she doesn’t say anything, but with a little waggle of her fingers, she sashays away, Tommy and the kids watching after her.

Then Kira turns back to Tommy.  “You know, Dr. O, I _really_ hate to agree with anything that witch says.  But she’s right – you haven’t been acting normal all week.  _Is_ there something the matter?”

“No, I’m fine,” he assures quickly, nerves quivering from Randall's last remark.  Yet it's all just dreams...

... And of course dreams can't hurt you...

* * * * * FINIS * * * * *


End file.
